


But You Can

by Zig_Zag_F1



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anthoine Hubert - Freeform, Based on True Events, Charles Leclerc's first win, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Sadness, Spa 2019, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:31:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zig_Zag_F1/pseuds/Zig_Zag_F1
Summary: Pierre asks Charles to win the Belgium GP for their friend Anthoine Hubert.





	But You Can

The morning afterwards, the morning of the race, Pierre is awake before it's even light. He's not really sure he slept much, and he finds his phone lying next to his pillow, almost dead. He never plugged it in last night. He had fallen asleep calling and texting old friends and alternately crying and talking. His eyes feel heavy and his eyelids are sticking together a little with dried tears. 

He knows this is not a time that he can afford to lay back down or he might not be able to stop himself from descending into grief again. _Plenty of time for that tomorrow, and the next day, and the next._ Today, he has to face people, and do things, and close his helmet, and fight his way up as far as he can on the track. Distantly, he knows that he needs to keep pushing himself or he will never be able to prove that he deserves better than Toro Rosso, but he doesn't think about that directly. It seems selfish. He's here, about to drive in a Formula 1 race, about to take his place with the best of the best in the world, and Anthoine? He never got that chance. 

Pierre feels that it's not fair to even complain about anything anymore. He'd spent the summer break complaining, even to Anthoine, and of all things, Anthoine had been sympathetic, and encouraging, and Pierre feels sick thinking about it now. 

He plugs his phone in and goes into the restroom and stares at his hollow eyes in the mirror and runs his fingers through his wrecked hair. With the washcloth he tries his best to clear his eyes and erase the sleep marks from his face before he showers and dresses and fixes his hair. When he's done, no traces of the night before remain except the dark circles under his eyes. But there's nothing to be done, and he scarcely thinks he'll be the only one on track today who didn't sleep well last night.

In the garage, it's business as usual. There's something oddly comforting about being back at Toro Rosso today, although he doesn't want to admit it. The pressure seems less intense, and he knows he likes this car better anyway. Of course he wishes he hadn't lost his seat, but today, it's okay. It's not even that important. 

The crew is oddly quiet today, and they seem to avoid him as if he's brought a dark cloud into their midst. There's sidelong glances, some pitying, some concerned. Pierre tries to just smile. He knows he'll have to put on a normal face for the media soon.

It's not until he's in his full gear and everything is prepped that he forces himself to face the thought of the moment of silence. He has avoided thinking about it all morning, not because he forgot, but because he couldn't handle the idea of standing in front of everyone, with the other drivers, and paying tribute to his friend with people who didn't even know him, and some who probably don't even care. If it were the family and himself, and Charles, and the F2 racers, Albon, Russell, and even Ocon, it would be okay. Esteban and Pierre may not be so close now, but he knows they could put that aside for today. But no, there would be everyone there, Hamilton, who didn't know anything about Anthoine but somehow managed to make a big media splash with his tribute anyway. Kvyat, Pierre's teammate now, who never posted any tribute at all. The Haas drivers, who have no connection to any of this. And yet, they'd all be there, circling Anthoine's helmet, giving the moment of silence together.

Pierre knows he's not being fair. They're all trying to be respectful and helpful-_except maybe Lewis, who always seems to make it about himself-_and they're all trying to comfort the family.

Watson is waving at him from the doorway. "Come on, Pierre. It's time."

Pierre doesn't zip up his uniform, leaving it to hang around his waist, and he knows the race will begin right after the tribute, so he keeps his headphones around his neck as he follows Watson outside.

People are already gathering around. Most of the drivers are there, and the crews, and team principals, and of course, the reporters, filming away, just like always. It's on live TV, after all. Pierre is thankful now that there are so many others there. He's one of a crowd now. The camera will focus on Anthoine's family, not on him. 

He blinks steadily as he walks towards the lines of people, finding himself standing next to Alex Albon. He's glad for that, even though he's never been close to Alex, because he knows Alex at least feels something. 

Alex glances at him and forces a smile, but they don't speak. 

Suddenly, there is silence, and Pierre freezes solid. It's time. There's no sound from the cars, or the garages, or the crowd. The only thing that can be heard are stifled sobs, and coughs, and muffled sniffs. 

Alex fakes a cough to cover something else, his hand over his face a bit too long. Pierre just blinks hard. From where he's standing, he can't see Anthoine's family very well, but he can see Charles, next to Mattia Binotto. He hasn't seen Charles since the news came out. He's wanted to, but everything was such a mess yesterday, and he was a mess, and he knows from Charles' text messages that he wasn't doing well either. Pierre tries to catch his eye now, but Charles is looking down.

Pierre realizes he can see George as well, and he's staring straight ahead as though in a trance, never moving except for the pinching of his lips every few seconds. Pierre looks away.

Then the video tribute starts to play, and Pierre chokes back the emotion that rises in his throat when he sees Anthoine's picture up there. He covers his mouth with his hand and takes to repeatedly stroking his unshaven stubble, staring straight ahead. 

Alex has the goodness not to look at him, and Pierre thinks that if he had, the emotions might not have stayed put in his chest. But they do, and he holds his breath for long moments during the video and he doesn't look. He doesn't want to look right now, not yet. First the race, then the grief. He will deal with it later.

And then it's over, and there's a split second of stillness again before the announcer asks everyone to rise for the national anthem of Belgium, and Pierre lets out a breath as the crowd stands and some lady starts to sing words that don't make sense to Pierre, but he's grateful that she's loud and no one is able to hear the stifled emotions from below. 

Pierre tries again to catch Charles' eye, but his friend doesn't look up. 

Then the anthem is over, and the drivers are let loose, and they scatter towards their respective teams, but Pierre doesn't walk away. He's looking for Charles, scanning the milling crowd for the red shirt and familiar tousled brown hair. 

But the throngs are too much, and Pierre can't seem to find him, so he walks off the track and back to the sidelines, careful to avoid anyone from Toro Rosso who might hurry him up, because he just feels so strongly that he has to talk to Charles, he has to see him before the race. There's something he has to tell him first.

He's fidgeting, afraid that he may have missed him, and that maybe Charles is already back with Ferrari, when he looks up. Charles and Mattia are coming towards him, Mattia almost seeming to be supporting Charles as he stumbles along, still looking at the ground. Charles has his hat pulled low over his face, and Pierre fights to keep from being choked up again. 

"Charles!" He shouts, and he's relieved that his voice doesn't break. Mattia and Charles both look up, and Charles straightens his cap and seems to regain some footing as Mattia gives him a helpful push back upright. 

"Pierre?" 

Pierre waves at him to come, and Charles glances at Mattia, who nods, but says something about the time. Pierre knows that time is running out. He knows he has to be on the grid soon, both of them do, but there's something he has to say first. Charles approaches him and Pierre waves him around a corner, away from the media, away from the noise. 

The first thing Charles does is pull him into a hug tightly, and Pierre doesn't resist, hugging his friend back hard. He wishes now that he had gone to find Charles the night before, they could have been together in their sadness, but it's too late for that now. He breathes heavily and chokes a bit, and Charles makes a sound like a stifled sob, but when they part, the only sign of emotion is the red that rims Charles' eyes and the dark circles underneath them.

Charles leaves his hand on Pierre's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my friend," he says, his voice unsteady. "I know you were much closer to him."

Pierre finds himself blinking very hard again, but he manages to speak anyway. "Yeah. But you knew him too. You are I both spent a lot of time with him." He blinks again, but keeps going. "Listen, Charles, since...since I'm not at Red Bull anymore, and...well, even if I was, I don't know if I would have a chance..."

Charles looks at him quizzically and waits for him to finish. Pierre swallows hard and continues, "You have a chance, and I don't. Charles, please...please win this race for him."

The redness in Charles' eyes grows a bit, and he grips Pierre's shoulder painfully hard, but he nods very quickly, over and over. "I'll try. You know I'll give it everything I've got."

"Thank you," Pierre says quietly, pulling him into another quick hug. It's only a second before the friends part again, because they both know it's time to hurry. "Be safe, Charles. I know you can win this for Anthoine."

"Drive safe. I'll see you afterwards," Charles says, giving Pierre's shoulder a last quick squeeze before he's gone, dashing through the paddock.

Pierre walks towards Toro Rosso, zipping up his top half as he does, pushing everything in his brain aside for now. It's time to put his visor down and get through this race, and then, maybe then, he can finally let it out.

*******

Charles does win. Pierre can't see it, of course, because he's running ninth, but he hears it on the radio, and his heart rate picks up, and he lets out a long breath. Even though he's still focusing on finishing his own race, he feels like the important thing has been done already. The important part is over. Charles did it. He did it for Anthoine. 

When Pierre finally sees Charles that evening, he's still surrounded by media, crowing about how it's his first win, and how about that fight with Hamilton, and about how he must have mixed feelings. Charles is answering with his usual calm, controlled demeanor, but he looks up during the questions and his eyes meet Pierre's, and he nods, almost imperceptibly, and Pierre nods back. 

Later, he pulls up the video of Charles' win, watches as he points to the sky immediately, and sees how he drags the media over to point to the sticker on his car, _Racing for Anthoine, _and he sobs to himself, because the only way it could have been more perfect is if he had won it for Anthoine himself. 

But he knew Charles could do what he couldn't, and as the video shows Charles with the trophy in one hand and the other pointing upwards, all Pierre can think of is how thankful he is that Anthoine got a real tribute, a tribute far better than a moment of silence or a video montage, and he's grateful to Charles for making it happen.

He knows he'll see Charles tomorrow, and they will unleash every feeling and thought they've been stifling this weekend.

But he takes out his phone and types a message to Charles anyway.

_Thank you, my friend. I knew you could do it. _

**Author's Note:**

> Pierre really did ask Charles to win for Anthoine. And as we know, Charles did. 
> 
> Pierre lived with Anthoine for five years and went to school with him and has pictures of them together throughout the years. It's clear they were good friends. My deepest sympathies go out to him and Charles and the rest of the family and friends of Hubert. I tried to keep this as close to actual facts and events as possible. 
> 
> I was pretty shocked by what happened and although of course I know none of the people involved personally, of course I wish them all comfort and peace in this tragic time. The way Charles dedicated his win had me teary even though I'm not usually one for being emotional about things. Rest in peace, Anthoine. 
> 
> And as a side note, there are pictures of Pierre and Charles catching up today as everyone is coming to Monza and gearing up for the Italian GP, and it makes me really happy to see their friendship. I wish them both the best.


End file.
